


F13 Chapter 7.9: Before Hell

by GamerDadLDTZ



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamerDadLDTZ/pseuds/GamerDadLDTZ





	F13 Chapter 7.9: Before Hell

1

"Jason. My little boy. My very special boy. There's still work to be done, sweetie. He's coming back. Soon. Very soon. I wouldn't let him forget what he did to you. What he did to us! Come home, my dear, sweet Jason. Come home to mommy."

2

  
Tommy Jarvis woke up in a panic, covered in sweat, his chest heaving rapidly. The girl next to him snored in loud protest, turned over, and resumed sleeping. Tommy looked around the master bedroom of his apartment. Darkness. Nothing but darkness. Occasionally, a car would pass by, its headlights creating shadows on the wall that faded quickly.  
Tommy was no stranger to bad dreams. But, who wouldn't be after seeing so much death. His family, save for his deadbeat dad, lived in a cabin in Crystal Lake. One summer, his family, along with a bunch of teens renting the house next door, were attacked by Jason Voorhees. Tommy and his sister were the only survivors. Becoming a ward of the state, Tommy was sent to numerous mental institutions, finally landing at Pinehurst Halfway House.   
At Pinehurst, Tommy was plagued by visions of Jason. Sometimes, things got so bad that Tommy felt like he was possessed by Jason, occasionally feeling an urge to kill those around him. To make matters worse, two of the other kids at the halfway house got into an argument that led to one burying an axe in the other. The dead kid's dad lost his mind, donned a hockey mask and acted as Jason, killing several people. Tommy survived.  
Soon after, he and his friend, Hawes, went to the cemetery where the real Jason was buried. Through some strange twist of fate, Jason was resurrected and began killing again. Tommy and Megan Garris-daughter of the late Sheriff of Crystal Lake, or Forest Green, or whatever the locals called it back then-and current bedmate, were able to trap Jason at the bottom of the lake. Tommy thought the nightmares would end.  
He heard stories every so often. But, the way the media sensationalizes everything, he wrote it off. There was no way a girl with psychic powers brought that maniac back up from the lake. And there must be dozens of masked maniacs in New York.   
Yet, here he sat, Megan continuing to snore next to him, wide awake and drenched in sweat, thinking about Jason Voorhees.  
Tommy got out of bed and went to the bathroom. After using the toilet and washing his hands, Tommy looked up to see his reflection grimacing back at him.  
"Get a hold of yourself, Jarvis," Tommy said. He ran a hand through his disheveled blond hair.   
"He's dead. He has to be dead. You sent him back to the bottom of that Godforsaken lake yourself."  
Without warning, Tommy's head was bombarded with images of that night, so vivid they caused him to sway violently where he stood. He very nearly blacked out, grabbing the sides of the porcelain sink just in time to steady himself. Tommy held on tight and closed his eyes. The images began to fade to black. Tommy could feel his legs regain their balance. He kept his eyes closed, seeing only blackness, hearing the buzzing of the bathroom light, feeling tears running down his cheeks.  
A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped violently. Megan was behind him with a worried look on her face.  
"Are you ok?" She asked. Her eyelids were still half closed and crusted with sleep. Her hair was sticking out at odd angles. All she had on was a long t-shirt-one of Tommy's. He could see her nipples through her shirt. She shook ever so slightly. Tommy realized she was cold.  
"I'm fine," he said as he put his arms around her and hugged her tight.  
"Nightmare?" Megan asked.  
"How did you know?"  
" I could tell."  
She laid her head on his chest. Tommy loved the way she smelled. It reminded him of a mix of jasmine and lilies.  
"Let's get back to sleep," he said as he released her from his embrace. He turned off the bathroom light and they walked back to bed together.  
Tommy spent the early morning trying to forget about the dream and those feelings. But, for reasons beyond his human comprehension, he couldn't. The thought that Jason might somehow still be alive had planted itself firmly in the back of his mind and routinely prodded at him like an old man poking at a campfire from a folding chair.  
"There's just no way. No way at all. He's still at the bottom of the lake. He has to be."  
"Jason Voorhees?"  
"Huh?" Tommy's head darted around. He saw an elderly gentleman, hunched over a walker, staring at him expectantly.  
"Get the door, please," the old man said. He didn't take his gaze off Tommy.   
"Oh, uh, sure. Yeah. Sorry about that," Tommy said as he grabbed the door leading out of his apartment building.  
As he watched the old man slowly plod along down the street, Tommy allowed himself a small smile. He felt relief wash over the embarrassment. Tommy looked at his watch.  
"Oh shit," he said aloud to the empty common area. "I'm gonna be late for work." Tommy ran down the street, passing the elderly man with the walker. The man said something, but Tommy was moving too fast to catch any part of it. He made it around the corner and to the bus stop just before the 7:30 pick up pulled away from the curb.  
"Running a little late today, son?" The bus driver said after opening the doors and letting Tommy on. Tommy paid the fare and found an empty seat near the back. Moments later, his breath caught up with him. Tommy stared through the grime and out the bus window as the buildings passed by.   
The old man sitting at the campfire was still poking away.

3

  
Megan Garris lay in bed after Tommy left for work, thinking over the last few hours. Tommy's nightmares never really went away, even after he sent Jason Voorhees down to the bottom of Crystal Lake fifteen years ago. He would occasionally wake up from one. But, what he didn't know were the nights he kept her awake, screaming in his sleep.  
After she and Tommy returned to bed, they made love and he fell back to sleep. Well, on nights like these, she could hardly call what they did love. It was more medicinal; a way for her to help Tommy get over his nightmare and get some rest. She loved him. She really did. And the events that brought them together, would be the reason they would never leave each other.  
So, he would wake up in a cold sweat and she would dutifully mount him, pleasure him, and put him back to sleep.  
Megan's thoughts turned from Tommy to her father, Michael Garris, who was sheriff of Forest Green when that maniac attacked. He saved her life, and he died for it. She buried her father next to where her mother was buried, knowing how much he had loved her mother, knowing they would want to be together again.   
Often, Megan would remember brief flashes of her mom, but she had died when Megan was little, and the memories were fuzzy photos at best. Megan's father did his best to raise her, and made the ultimate sacrifice when her life was in danger. The town of Forest Green even built a statue in his honor and placed it right outside the police station.  
Megan, tired of thinking, rolled out of bed and got changed. She made herself a cup of tea and walked over to a mahogany desk situated in a corner of the apartment. Megan put the cup down on a coaster and turned on her Mac, which treated her with its usual fanfare. A headset hung from the monitor. Megan pulled it off, taking care not to scratch the screen, and slipped the headset over her head.  
Within minutes, work started. Megan spent the day taking about a dozen calls, and helping each person through their own crisis du jour. Megan, once a camp counselor who loved working with kids, decided to go to school and because a psychiatrist. She thought helping people through their problems would eventually help her through her own, or at least help her forget her own. She hoped that one day, her skills and knowledge would even be enough to lift Tommy's own personal burden.  
After her final call for the day, Megan powered everything down, sat back in her chair, and breathed a heavy sigh. Her head was swimming and her heart was hurting. So much misery in the world. If there really is a God, why would he allow people to go through all this grief and loss and tragedy?  
Behind her, Megan heard the deadbolt slide and knob turn at the front door. She got out of her chair and greeted Tommy with a smile and warm embrace.  
"How was your day?" she asked as they walked into the kitchen. Tommy plopped into a chair and sighed heavily.   
"I couldn't focus at all ," he said. That nightmare stuck with me all day. I couldn't shake it."  
"I'm sorry," Megan said as she made her way to the refrigerator and pulled out some lunch meat, mayo, veggies, a tomato, and mustard. Megan took some slices of bread out of a bag in the bread basket. She got to work building each of them a sandwich. Minutes later, they washed down the remains of their sandwiches with some beer. Tommy cleared the table and took care of the dishes as Megan went into the living room and found a show for them to watch on TV.   
That night, they made love. It wasn't of the sweet and sensual variety. The love they made was ferocious. They both climaxed at the same time, and before long, Tommy was fast asleep. Megan washed up in the bathroom and crawled back into bed. Tommy was usually gentle. But, this time, this time he was like an animal. Megan felt slight soreness along her inner thighs and just knew that was going to leave a bruise.  
Megan looked at Tommy, who would not remember the nightmare he had that night. She kissed him on the forehead, rolled over, and went to sleep for the last time in this apartment.

4

  
While Tommy Jarvis and Megan Garris made love, the same darkness that fell across their apartment, made its way across a dense forest. The giant pine trees stood sentry over a lake. The water was calm. There was a stillness to the air so absolute, it was like Mother Nature was holding her breath. A lone cricket chirped once, twice, thrice. When his call was not responded to, he stopped and absolute silence enveloped the area.  
Across the lake was a small cabin. A lone light was on in the kitchen area of that cabin. If there was anyone watching that cabin, they would only catch a glimpse of its single resident, a middle-aged man. His once thick dark hair was now thinning and grey. He moved around the kitchen of his cabin, gathering a plate, utensils, a cup, and the mac and cheese he just finished cooking. He sat down to eat. The mac and cheese was standard fare. He hated it, but he finished it nonetheless.  
After cleaning up his dinner, former Forest Green Deputy, Rick Cologne, slowly lumbered to his couch and flopped down. He turned on his television and started his descent into zoning out.  
A news reporter drones on about a possible tax hike. Rick changed the channel. Static. Rick changed the channel. A cartoon with lots of flashy action and bright colors. Rick changed the channel yet again. A baseball game. Rick stayed his trigger finger. Yeah, baseball is fine.  
A few minutes into watching the game, Rick could feel his eyelids growing very heavy. His breathing became steadily heavier as Rick fell deep and deeper into sleep.  
A metal door slams.  
"You're really screwing up here, missy."  
A set of keys hits the ground.  
"Don't do this Megan!"  
The front door slams shut.  
"Megan!"  
Hours pass by. The front door opens again. Flashing red and blue lights outside.  
Voices.  
The jingling of keys. The screeching of the metal door opening.  
A loud CRACK!  
"Home run!"  
Rick was startled from sleep by the announcer on the television. He sat up in his chair and shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. Memories of that night came flooding back. All the death. Then the embarrassment of getting locked up in his own jail cell by his boss's daughter and that Jarvis kid. The only silver lining Rick ever found when thinking about that night was surviving it. Several teenagers were found dead, police officers, and even the Sheriff as well.   
The Sheriff's daughter gave her statement to the police, as did Jarvis. They both said it was Jason Voorhees who killed all those people. Rick couldn't provide any evidence to the contrary, but always thought Jarvis was the one who did it, especially since Jason was never found. The authorities even searched the bottom of the lake and couldn't find anyone chained to a rock like Megan and Jarvis claimed.  
Rick was offered the sheriff position by the town. He even considered taking it, but decided against it. After everything he went through, the town gave Rick a place to live and allowed him to take his pension in early retirement. Rick accepted that and spent his days drinking beer, eating junk food, and going out on Crystal Lake to find Jason's body. Every day, Rick went out on his boat. And every day he returned empty-handed.  
Over the years, Rick noticed a change in the town. The further away they got from the murders, the easier it was for the people to forget them like one forgets a bad dream. After a few years passed, people started talking about reopening Camp Crystal Lake. And a couple years after that, they went and did it. Rick could hear the campers from his house. There was always laughter and jovial yelling coming from across the lake. Camp season was always music to Rick's ears. And hearing those kids was one of the few things that brought a smile to Rick's face. And the best part? No murders in Crystal Lake in over a decade. No other city in the state could boast that.  
Rick got up from his chair and turned off the television. He walked over to his window and looked out across the lake. There he saw a large fire with several bodies around it and heard youthful laughter. Rick allowed himself a small smile and made his way to bed. What he missed was the ripple of water near the edge of the camp that started as a single ring, but grew into several rings as a dark shape breached the surface of the water.

5

  
Camp Crystal Lake's summer was in full swing. The campers had been there for several weeks. As with most summer camp sessions, the campers went through the initial elation of leaving their parents in the dust along with their silly rules. Then the camp rules started up. Then homesickness swept over several of the campers. After the first few weeks, though, everyone had settled into a nice routine of breakfast, physical activities, lunch, hiking, dinner, and campfire stories.  
The camp was run by a handful of counselors. The campers knew them by first name only: Josh, Cindy, Carla, Trevor, Sandy, and the head counselors Pete and Wendy. Pete's parents were friends of the Christie Family, the founders of Camp Crystal Lake. One evening, Pete's family had the Christies over for dinner and everyone got to talking about the camp and how great it would be, with all the unpleasantness in their rear view mirror, to reopen the camp again and get kids outside, away from the television.  
One night, after all of the campers were settled in their bunks and asleep, the counselors got together around the campfire. Pete brought a cooler full of Coors Light beer. He passed a can to each member of his team and they simultaneously cracked their cans open and drank deep. As each can was emptied, another was handed out. When round two ended, Pete stood up, a smile on his face, and cleared his throat.  
"We've had a hell of a season so far, guys."  
"Fuck yeah," Josh said, holding his third can of Coors up in salute.  
"The kids are having fun, you guys are having fun," Pete said. He looked around. "You guys are having fun, right?"  
The girls all cheered. The guys hooted and hollered.  
"Good," Pete said. "You know, this camp has been through a lot over the years. My hope is we can continue to make this place a fun place for kids to come to, year in and year out. I also want you all to feel proud that it started with you guys."  
More cheering. Wendy stood up next to Pete.  
"I think what Pete is trying to say is keep up the good work. Now, let's finish these beers and get some rest. We have another full day ahead of us."  
The counselors clapped and opened more cans of beer.  
"Oh," Wendy started. "Josh, Sandy, could you do us all a favor and keep it down to a dull roar tonight? You two are loud enough to wake the dead."  
Sandy jumped onto Josh's lap and they began making out. Carla grabbed a handful of earth and threw it at them.  
"Knock it off, you two," she said.  
Sandy slipped off Josh's lap and brushed the dirt off her shorts. Josh laughed.  
"That's ok. We like it dirty," he said.  
Time passed and the cold cans full of beer were removed and replaced with empty ones. The fire died out and the counselors retired to the main cabin. Josh and Sandy were louder than ever that night. No one heard the heavy foot falls making their way up the bank of the lake toward the camp.

6

  
"Ki, Ki, Ki. Ma, Ma, Ma."  
"Good boy, Jason. It's almost time. He's coming back."  
"Ki, Ki, Ki. Ma, Ma, Ma."  
"Your work isn't done yet. My special boy. Take care of these trespassers. Take care of our camp."  
"Ki, Ki, Ki. Ma, Ma, Ma."

7

  
Tommy couldn't shake his nightmare. Not completely. He was used to them. Most times they would fade like floaters in front of shut eyelids. But, this time, something was different. He just knew it.   
"It's just a strong nightmare," Megan said when he told her. Her eyes had a nervous look to them.  
"I don't think so this time," Tommy said. "I think he's back."  
"But, how?"  
"I don't know. But, there's definitely something wrong,"  
Megan looked at Tommy. Her eyes shined in the light of their apartment. It was far from happiness though. She looked like a mother whose son was going off to war.   
"You're not going back there, Tommy."  
"I have to."  
"No. You don't."  
"I have to Megan. No one knows that maniac like I do."  
Megan felt heaviness in the pit of her stomach, like a boulder sank there. Uneasiness and fear started to surface. Somehow she knew she wasn't going to see him again.  
"You can't go."  
"Megan."  
"Tommy. You can't. It isn't your burden anymore. If Jason Voorhees is back, let someone else deal with him."  
"Megan, I can't...."  
"Then I'm going with you."  
Tommy's eyes widened. The color drained from his face in an almost cartoonish way.  
"No."  
Megan put the fear behind her to make one last stand in this argument.  
"Yes. I'm going with you."  
"You can't."  
"Oh?"  
She folded her arms across her chest. Tommy stood there, stammering, trying to think of a way out of this. He had to face Jason, but he couldn't endanger anyone else.  
"Megan,"  
"Look, Tommy, we faced him before. Together. We can do it again. Together."  
Tommy could feel his grip on the argument slip. He knew how stubborn she could be and couldn't think of a way out of this. His shoulders slumped in defeat.  
"Fine."  
Megan hugged him.  
"You know that isn't the right answer, don't you?"  
That night, Megan turned over in bed to put her arm around Tommy. No one was there.

8

  
Tommy hopped an early bus to the nearest Enterprise Rent-A-Car. He was able to get a pick up truck, At one time, the truck was probably as bright red as a Marichino Cherry. The paint dulled with age and rust. It was loud, but drivable.  
After getting the rental car, Tommy drove to the nearest hardware store. While there, he bought long, thick chains and a machete. The clerk, a perky twenty-something girl with thick frames, gave him a worried look. Tommy smiled at her.  
“My wife’s idea,” he said with a half-smile. The girl’s look turned from worried to disgusted. She rang him up as quickly as she could, hoping to get him out of the store and out of her life.  
Tommy, feeling this tension, took his purchase and left the hardware store without a word. He dumped the items in the bed of the pick-up, climbed in to the driver’s seat, and started up the engine. Within a few hours, he could see mileage markers advising he was nearing Crystal Lake. Tommy added some pressure to the gas peddle, easing it closer to the floor, until the engine began to sputter and cough like an asthmatic running a half-marathon. He could feel his heart rate increase as he drove straight back to his past.  
The sun was starting to set by the time he reached the town proper. Crystal Lake was one of those small country towns. Everyone knew everyone else and everyone else’s business. It was a place that had seen much sadness in its past and tried to do its best to distance itself from that sadness. As with most small country towns, not much ever changed. Tommy drove through the town and recognized the stores and eateries. He pulled in to one of the diners to grab a bite a some coffee to wake himself up.  
Tommy walked in and seated himself at a booth. A waitress walked up to him. She was older than Tommy, mid-forties maybe. Her hair was thin and graying. Her face was showing the first signs of wrinkles, with an expression that told Tommy she had not had an easy life.  
“What can I get you?” she asked in a tone that was not yet unfriendly.  
“Coffee. Black. And a tuna sandwich,” Tommy said.  
The waitress, Jean according to her name tag, walked away without another word. Tommy looked out the window at the fading daylight. He could sense something was definitely wrong. It just had to be. He just hoped no one was hurt.  
Jean the waitress returned with a pot of coffee and poured him a cup.  
“Is the camp still open?” he asked.  
“Sure is,” Jean said.  
“Do you know if anyone is there?”  
“What do I look like, some kind of newspaper?”  
“I was just curious is all,” Tommy said. “I used to live near the camp and was wondering how things were going.”  
“Lived near the camp? Son, no one has lived near that place for years. Not since that poor Jarvis family…”  
A realization swept across Jean’s eyes as she stared at Tommy. Her eyes bore into him, making Tommy shift uncomfortably in his seat. The seat cushion making Tommy sound like he’s passing gas loudly.  
“Are you that Jarvis boy?” Jean asked. Tommy nodded. Jean gasped. “My word.”  
A bell rang from the kitchen. No one moved. Time stood frozen. One beat. Two beats.  
“Jean!” a voice yelled. “Order up!”  
Jean came out of her shocked daze and walked quickly to get Tommy’s sandwich.  
“They reopened the camp a few years after all the murders stopped and the town went back to being called Crystal Lake,” she said as she put the plate down. “I think there are some kids there now.”  
“Thank you,” Tommy said. He went to pick up his sandwich. Jean didn’t move. They stayed at each other.  
“I’m sorry,” she said.  
“Sorry for what?” Tommy asked, confused.  
“No one should have had to go through what you went through.”  
“Thank you.”  
The bell rang again from the kitchen. Jean walked away. Tommy felt relief that she was finally gone. Unfortunately, he also felt even further from hungry. He put the sandwich back on the plate, took a sip of the coffee, left a twenty dollar bill on the table, and walked out of the diner into the twilight.

9

  
Rick went over to the microwave as it beeped, letting him know his gourmet meal of leftover mac and cheese with cut up hot dogs was piping hot, ready for him to undoubtedly burn his tongue on. He tried to pick up the bowl with his bare hand and immediately drew back.  
“Jesus Fuck!”  
He grabbed a hand towel and used it to pick the bowl up and out of the microwave and bring it to the table. After grabbing his beer from the counter and some utensils, Rick sat down to eat.  
As he went to take his first bite a loud THUD came from down the hall. Rick stayed still. Another THUD.  
“Hello?” Rick asked to no one. He put the food down and listened again. Nothing. Absolute silence save for the wind blowing through the trees. Rick went to finally take that first bite.  
THUD!  
“God Dammit,” he whispered under his breath. Rick’s heart was starting to beat faster. He got up from his chair. His legs felt unsteady, like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm at sea. Rick cursed himself. He was a damned police officer. A man of the law. Retired, but still. He shouldn’t be afraid of stuff like this. Kids get scared of stuff like this.  
He made his way down the hall. Slowly. Quietly. Then, another THUD! Rick yelped, nearly jumping out of his socks. Without knowing why, he ran to the source of the sound. Rounding a corner and flipping a light switch, Rick found that one of the shutters outside the bathroom window was caught in the breeze. He started to laugh out loud. What a chicken shit!  
Rick turned to go back to his dinner. A force went right through him. At first he thought it was just a cross breeze until his eyes caught sight of the source. The blade of a machete was through his rather large gut up to the handle. Rick looked up from the handle to the owner. A dirty, bloodied hockey mask stared back at him. Jason pulled the machete from Rick’s stomach. Rick grabbed at the wound. Blood spread across his shirt, flowing freely through his fingers, dripping on the floor. Rick turned to run and slipped on the blood, falling to the floor and smacking the back of his head on the wood.  
Dazed and bleeding uncontrollably, Rick looked up from the floor in time to see the point of the machete, light gleaming off the blood, thrust downward into his eye. The pain exploded in his head as the machete sliced through his eye, his skull, and into the floor underneath, and then nothing.  
Jason yanked the machete out of Rick’s head and walked out of the house, toward the camp.

10

  
Megan knew exactly where Tommy went. She also knew there was no way he could face whatever he was about to face on his own. There was no way Jason Voorhees was alive. Tommy buried him at the bottom of the lake. But, Tommy was going to face something and she couldn’t let him do it alone.  
Megan got in her car, a Honda Civic, not quite the speed demon she had back when her dad was alive, but it got good gas mileage. She threw the car in drive and started her drive home.  
“Kids always come back home,” she said aloud to no one, and laughed. Megan wondered about Jason. How did he survive drowning as a kid? Why did he keep killing? Was he just protecting his home?  
She shook the thoughts violently from her mind. These were questions she didn’t really want answered. Megan reached for the radio and flipped to a rock station. Alice Cooper was on. She really didn’t care for Mr. Cooper’s brand of rock, so she settled for talk radio.  
The drive to Crystal Lake should have been the most boring hours of her life, but the thought of Tommy kept Megan’s foot on the gas and her heart beating faster than it should have. Even with Jason dead, Megan had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, a nagging instinct that Tommy was heading into trouble. And here she was speeding right after him.

11

  
After yet another fulfilling day of entertaining over-privileged teens, the Crystal Lake Camp counselors retired to their cabin. Well, cabin was probably the wrong word. What they resided in was more of a house-an old lake house. It was all wood. The wood was old and creaky, but held up better than any cookie-cutter aluminum-siding house in the suburbs would have. There were two levels. The first level had a living room, bathroom, kitchen, and the head counselor room. Upstairs held an additional bathroom and the remaining bedrooms for the other counselors.  
Josh and Sandy were dancing to some synthesized boy band on the radio. To Peter, it looked more like they were trying to start a fire rubbing their crotches together like they were. It made him feel old. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge. Wendy walked over to him, a beer in one hand, a smile on her face.  
“It’s called dancing,” she said. “I hear it’s all the rage nowadays.”  
“Looks more like they’re dry humping to me.”  
“You’re such a dinosaur.”  
“Rawr.”  
She kissed him on the cheek and walked past him, chugging what was left of her beer and grabbing another one from the fridge.  
“Anyone call for a doctor?” Trevor called from the other room. “Cuz, I got the right prescription for any occasion.” Peter walked from the kitchen to find Trevor with a bag of grass and rolling papers.  
“Your mother know you smoke that shit?” Peter asked him.  
“Sure does, boss. Where do you think I got it?”   
Everyone laughed. Even Peter cracked a smile. “Damn right I’m your boss. That means I get the first hit.”  
Trevor finished rolling the joint and handed it to Peter with a lighter. Peter took a hit, held it, probably for too long, and coughed hard. The entire house laughed at him. Peter continued to cough, handing the joint to Wendy who took a bigger hit and handled it much better than he did. She passed it on, and the joint made it way all around. The counselors grabbed fresh beverages and turned the music up.  
Josh and Sandy got back to rubbing on each other as the bass thumped the room. It didn’t take long before they began to take each other’s shirts off. Josh’s chest was slick with sweat, his abs showing, white skin contrasting with his dark arms in a way that would make any Midwest farmer proud. Sandy’s breasts, free from her bra, bounced rhythmically with the music, her nipples hard from the exposed air. All of the other guys couldn’t pull their eyes from her.   
Cindy, who had been eyeing Trevor all night, had an idea. She walked over to him and grabbed his hands in hers. She pulled him to the middle of the floor and began to dance with him, next to Sandy and Josh. She looked at Sandy and smiled. Sandy looked back, knowing exactly what Cindy had in mind. She pushed Josh to the side and started to make out with Cindy. Josh and Trevor stopped dancing and stood next to each other, mouths open nearly down to the floor.  
Wendy made her way to the middle of the floor. The girls tried to coax her into joining. Wendy just smiled.  
“I’ve had my fair share of adventures. Why don’t you kids all make your way up to your rooms and explore each other up there. Let the adults have some peace and quiet.”  
All four went upstairs. Wendy turned the music down. Two doors could be heard closing. Thinking better of it, Wendy turned the music slightly higher.  
“To drown out the noise,” she said.  
Carla put her beer down. “I think I’m going to go take a little walk around the camp before bed. It’s nice and cool outside.”  
“Be careful,” Pete said, raising his beer in salute.  
Carla made her way outside, closing the front door behind her. She walked down the front stoop and onto the dirt. Crickets sang in the night. The wind blew through the trees. Somewhere in the woods, an owl hooted. Carla walked slowly, enjoying the peace of the camp. It was full dark out. A gust of wind picked up. Carla, who was wearing a tank top and very short shorts, hugged herself to stave off some of the cold breeze.   
She walked through the camp for a few more minutes before deciding to return to the house. As Carla turned to make her way back, she heard a twig snap behind her. The night grew still. No wind blew. The owl and the crickets went silent.  
“Hello?” She asked to the dark. The dark did not respond. Carla started back. Another twig snapped. Carla sped up this time. Her heart started to beat faster. The crickets and the owl stayed silent. Carla broke out into a full run. Down the path, she could see the light from the house. She could feel the dark all around her, nearly draping over her like a black veil. Carla’s heart was hammering, nearly pounding its way past her ribs.  
Moments later, Carla found herself at the bottom of the stoop in front of the house. She bent over, breathing rapidly. Seeing the light from the house made her feel safe again. Carla straightened up, hands at her hips, trying to steady her breathing and slow her heartbeat. She panted out a small laugh, feeling silly that she was so scared. Of course there was nothing out here.  
Carla turned toward the house. Before she could mount the first stair, a pair of hands fell on her shoulders. Carla tried to scream, but the hands pulled her back with such force that her spine bent and snapped like a twig. Carla’s body folder over on itself, the scream stuck on her face. Jason looked down at her. In the distance, an owl started hooting.

12

  
Peter finished his beer. Wendy walked slowly over to him, moving her hips rhythmically, a sly grin on her face. Peter could feel his shorts getting tighter. Wendy bent toward him. She had an intoxicating scent about her: booze and weed, mixed with sweat and perfume. Wendy looked down at Peter’s shorts.  
“Oh,” she said in mock surprise. “Did Little Peter want to come out and play too?”  
Wendy laughed. Peter could feel his shorts tighten further. He was so hard he felt like he could puncture concrete. His head was swimming wonderfully. Peter felt like he was rocking on a liquid cloud. Somewhere distant, he could hear the music playing. Somewhere above him, he could hear boards creaking and springs squeaking. Peter smiled at Wendy.   
Not wanting to waste another minute, Wendy grabbed Peter by the crotch. He gasped and bit down hard on his lip as her grip tightened.  
“Okay, okay, I get your point,” Peter said.  
“Good.”  
“What about Carla?”  
“She’s a big girl. She doesn’t need us babysitting her. Now, come on hot stuff.”  
Upstairs, Trevor climbed off of Cindy and rolled on to his back. They were both panting.   
“There’s no sex like stoned sex,” Trevor said. They both started to giggle like school kids sharing a dirty secret.  
“I’m really hungry,” Cindy said after the giggles subsided. “Can you go downstairs and get us something to eat?”  
Trevor stood up and bowed. “Whatever m’lady wants, I shall taketh care of.” They both laughed at that. “But, first, I must findeth my pantsicus.” That brought on a whole new level of laughter as Trevor stumbled around the room trying to collect his clothes so no one else say what he was packing.  
After much searching, Trevor finally found a pair of his shorts. “These’ll do,” he said as he slid them on. Trevor made his way downstairs. When he got here he noticed the music was still on, but Peter, Wendy, and Carla were all missing. Trevor smiled, imagining what was going on behind closed doors. He scanned the kitchen for some grub. His eyes settled on a bag of chips.   
Just as he was about to grab the chips, a shiny object flew down in front of his eyes and pierced his hand. Trevor saw the knife sticking out of his hand before the pain registered and he cried out. Trevor struggled mightily to remove the knife. Before he could pull it out of his hand though, Trevor felt his entire body being pulled. He could feel his hand start to tear around the knife. One tug, then another, then another. On the fourth, the knife sliced through the rest of Trevor’s hand and he found himself face-to-face with a very large man in a hockey mask.   
Jason towered above Trevor. He was breathing deeply. Trevor grabbed his ripped hand and held it, trying to stop the bleeding and failing miserably. Jason moved with lightning quickness as his hand punched through Trevor’s chest and out the other side, holding Trevor’s beating heart in the palm. Trevor looked down in shock as Jason’s hand pulled its way back. Blood gurgled from Trevor’s mouth. Seconds later, Trevor’s body went limp and he completely dropped to the floor. Jason held his heart, which continued to beat.

13

  
As Trevor’s heart beat in the palm of Jason Voorhees’s hand, Tommy was trying to explain to the new sheriff the danger he thought the camp was in.  
“I don’t have any proof,” Tommy said, completely exasperated having to go through this again. “I just know Jason is alive.”  
“Look, Mr. Jarvis,” Sheriff Garcia said as she jotted some notes down on a pad of paper, “I was just a little girl when Sheriff Garris was killed, but I remember the stories. The town recognizes what you did and thanks you. But, I find your story hard to believe, specially without evidence.”  
Tommy paced in front of the Sheriff’s desk. How was he going to convince her…  
“Call Rick!” a voice came from the lobby. Tommy froze. His insides turned to mush. Why had she come here? Why had she followed him? He turned around and saw Megan standing there, her hands on her hips, her face trying to stay stoic, but a smile started to creep out of the side of her mouth.  
“Megan,” Tommy started.  
“Don’t Megan me, Tommy. I told you I would help you through whatever it was.” Megan said.  
Sheriff Garcia looked from Tommy to Megan, confused. “Who are you?” she asked.  
“Megan Garris.”  
“Garris? You don’t mean…”  
“Yes, I’m his daughter.”  
“And this Rick you mentioned?”  
“His deputy. Well, former deputy now. Doesn’t he still live in Crystal Lake?”  
“Yes, in a house just off the Lake.”  
“Call him.”  
“Ms. Garris, with all due respect, it’s nearly midnight.”  
“Can you try? Please?”  
The Sheriff sat for a long minute, staring at Tommy and Megan. She signed heavily and picked up the phone at her desk. She pulled a rolodex close to her and searched for Rick’s phone number. Finding it, she began to dial. Tommy and Megan heard the ring on the other end of the phone. Once, twice, three times. There was no answer. Sheriff Garcia replaced the receiver.  
“Doesn’t mean anything,” she said, seeing the concern on Tommy’s face.” Could be he’s asleep. Which is what I suggest the both of you find and hotel and follow in his footsteps.  
“But,” Tommy started. Megan grabbed his arm and stopped him.  
“Tommy, she’s right. Let’s get some rest. We can check the camp out for ourselves in the morning.”  
Tommy’s shoulders slumped. He knew this wasn’t right. He knew something needed to be done. But, without more information, the police were no help. And now with Megan here, things got even more complicated. Tommy turned on his heel and stormed out of the police station. Megan smiled at the Sheriff as she made her way after Tommy.  
It didn’t take long to find a motel with a vacancy. The pair checked in. Sleep did not come easy to either of them that evening.

14

  
Peter and Wendy came at the same time as Jason Voorhees made a hole in Trevor’s chest. They didn’t hear him scream. They didn’t hear his dead body slump to the floor. They definitely didn’t hear Jason’s footsteps as he made his way upstairs.  
Jason stopped at the top of the steps. He waited in absolute silence. For a big man, who was, for all intents and purposes, walking death, Jason was extremely silent. He breathed, chest moving in and out. But, it wasn’t out of need for oxygen. Jason only breathed because it was a primal instinct of the human body, something every human does so subconsciously that sometimes a person can’t even tell when they’ve stopped breathing.  
There was a thud down the hall and a high-pitched laugh. Jason’s head jerked toward the noise. He saw the door ahead of him where the noise came from. It was closed, not that this would matter much. Jason walked toward the door and grabbed for the knob. Just as he was about to grab the knob and open the door, it swung open in front of him. Cindy stood there, her eyes still slitted from the weed, her face had a stupid grin. She was completely naked, her boobs were slightly bouncy as she hopped from one foot to the other, a stupid, embarrassed laughter accompanied her stupid grin.  
“I fell,” Cindy said through fits of laughter. Jason stood there, watching her. “Did you bring the snacks?”  
It took Cindy a moment to realize it wasn’t Trevor she was talking to. In that moment, Jason grabbed her throat with one hand and lifted her off the ground. Cindy tried to scream, but all that came out was a gurgled struggle for air. She clawed at her throat.  
Jason carried Cindy back into the room, the door closed softly behind him. He walked over to the bed where not more than 10 minutes prior, Trevor and Cindy were wrapped up in a bumbling kind of sex that only a prepubescent teen could possibly get aroused by. The end of the bed had short, ornamental posts on each side. Jason’s grip on Cindy’s throat tightened. The life started to drain from her. Cindy made one final attempt at escaping Jason’s grasp, but it made no difference in her weakened state. Before her final breath, Jason lifted her higher into the air and brought her body down on one of the posts so hard it impaled her. Cindy twitched and was still.  
Jason stared at her, tilting his head slightly to one side. Through the choked purple hue of her face, he saw a big stupid grin.

15

  
Sandy and Josh both lay in bed, sleeping. Sandy’s head lay against Josh’s naked chest, a satisfied smile on both their faces. The bedroom door groaned open slowly. Josh tried to get his drunken eyes to open and focus. Jason stood in the doorway, but all Josh could see was a black silhouette against the light of the hallway.  
“Trevor, man, what’s up?” Josh said sleepily.  
Jason stood there, not making a sound.  
Sandy stirred from sleep and looked at Jason.  
“Trevor?” she asked. Again, no response.  
Josh sat up. As he did, the sheet covering them slid off, exposing Josh and Sandy completely.   
“Trevor, you’re being a total creep. Get lost, man,” Josh said, his voice carrying a bit of anger. Jason took a step into the room. Sandy pulled the blanket over her exposed breasts.  
“What the fuck, Trevor?” she said.  
Josh got out of bed and reached to the floor for his underwear. “Trevor, I’m going to kick your ass, man.”  
Josh got his underwear on and made his way to the foot of the bed. He stopped dead in his tracks, realizing that the person in the room was definitely not Trevor. By then, it was too late. Jason shot both his hands out and grabbed Josh's head, twisting it so quick and with so much strength that it popped right off his neck like an action figure.   
As Josh's decapitated body hit the floor, Sandy began to scream. She tried to get out of bed and escape, but was so wrapped up in the covers that she tripped and fell on the floor. Jason made his way to her. He grabbed her head with both of his hands, similar to how he grabbed Josh. However, this time, he began to squeeze Sandy’s head like a vice. She jerked around, trying to escape. It was no use. Jason squeezed her head so hard her eyes popped from their sockets and landed on the floor in front of him. He released her head and her body dropped to the floor. Jason looked around the room for a moment. Seeing nothing of interest, he walked out of the room, down the hall, and back down the stairs. There was still more work he needed to do.

16

  
Peter and Wendy heard all the commotion upstairs and dressed quickly. They exchanged nervous glances, not knowing what the hell was going on. Between the loud thumps and the screaming, they knew it wasn’t just the others having a good old time. There was seriously something wrong.  
“What do we do?” Wendy whispered as they made their way out into the living room, quietly, trying not to make a sound.  
“Maybe they’re just playing a prank,” Peter said. Wendy shot him a glance that told him he was the biggest moron in the world. Peter made his way to the foot of the stairs. They could hear heavy footfalls coming from the second floor. Peter put a finger to his lips and pointed up. He started to ascend the stairs. Wendy grabbed his shirt. She shook her head. Her eyes met his and pleaded with him not to go upstairs.  
Peter gently removed her hands from his clothes and smiled at her. He turned an disappeared up the stairs. Wendy stood on the first floor and waited. Her stomach was in knots. She could feel the fear creep in like a friend who was just popping in, and sitting in your favorite chair before you can turn them away. The seconds ticked by slowly: one one-thousand, two one-thousand. Without warning Peter’s body flew down the stairs and landed on his stomach. Wendy could see Peter’s eyes staring back at her. She screamed.  
Jason descended the stairs methodically. Wendy looked up and saw him. She screamed louder this time. Wendy turned on her healed ran as fast as she could out of the cabin. She reached the bottom of the porch and tripped over something heavy, her head hit the ground with a thud. Lightbulbs flashed in head, her vision blurred.  
Wendy lay there, trying to clear her head. She turned her neck to look at what had tripped her and saw Carla’s body laying there, folded over. Wendy screamed and scrambled to her feet. Jason appeared at the top of the deck. He started to make his way down. Wendy ran as fast as she could through the camp and in to the forest, putting as much distance as possible between her and her pursuer.  
She ran quite some distance before she felt a stitch in her side pounding so violently, she thought her body would burst. Wendy stopped to catch her breath and get her bearings. There were no sounds in the woods other than her gasps. She stood there, hunched over, sweat poured from her brow. Her head was pounding. Her heart was nearly out of her chest. Peter was dead. Carla was dead. She had no idea what happened to the others, but Wendy assumed the worst.  
After the stitch in her side became a dull ache, Wendy started to walk slowly through the woods. She’d never heard them this quiet. The crickets weren’t singing. The owls weren’t hooting. Every few seconds, Wendy threw a glance over her shoulder to see if whoever had killed Peter was behind her. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him before. All she really saw was a hockey mask caked in dirt and blood.  
Wendy walked through the trees, trying to find a way out. The darkness was suffocating. She started to move quicker as her breathing steadied and the stitch in her side came undone. In an unfortunate way, her ears grew used to the unsettling silence. So, when the twig snapped behind her, instead of running, Wendy stopped. Her brain didn’t even really to the machete as it flawed her and buried itself between her eyes. Wendy staggered a few steps and fell forward. The ground pushed the machete deeper into her skull. Jason walked over to her. He kicked her body over. Planting a boot on her chest, he grabbed at the machete and pulled it from her head like Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone.  
“Good boy, Jason. But, your work isn’t finished. He’s coming, Jason. You need to be ready. Ready to kill for your mother.”

17

  
Tommy and Megan woke up early the next morning. The sun barely crested over the horizon, which gave everything a sickly orange glow. They dressed and left their hotel room. Tommy went to the front desk and paid the clerk.  
“Have a pleasant day Mr. Jarvis,” the clerk said with a genuine smile.  
Tommy tried to smile back, but it gave him a pained look. “You too,” he said and left. Megan was waiting in her car with the engine running. Tommy walked over to her driver side window.  
“You really shouldn’t be coming with me. This is something I need to do alone,” he said.  
“If it wasn’t for me, Jason would have brought you down with him. You would have drowned,” Megan said, frustration creeping into her voice. How many times did she have to go through this with him? Besides, there’s no way Jason’s alive.  
Tommy sighed heavily and walked over to his rental car. He started it up and drove off toward Camp Crystal Lake. Megan was right behind him.  
It didn’t take long for them to reach the camp. Tommy and Megan both exited their vehicles.  
“We should find Rick,” Megan said. “I haven’t seen him in years. I hope he’s doing alright.”  
“I doubt he’ll want to see me,” Tommy said. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms. Tommy knew Rick hated him. He blamed Tommy for bringing Jason back, for the Sheriff’s death, the death of all those other officers and the camp counselors. According to Rick, the entire ordeal was completely Tommy’s fault.  
“Even still, I’d like to see him. I think he lives just through the woods, opposite the camp.”  
“Fine.”  
They made their way from the parking lot and found a path that lead to a map of the camp. The map showed all of Camp Crystal Lake.  
“There,” Megan said. She was pointing to an unmarked building on the opposite side of the lake. They turned from the map and made their way to the house.   
When they arrived, they found the front door ajar. Megan reached out and knocked.  
“Rick?” she said through the opening. “Rick, are you home? It’s Megan Garris.” She looked at Tommy who shrugged his shoulders.  
“Do you think we should go in?” Megan asked.  
“Let me go first. Just in case,” Tommy said. He pushed the door completely open and stepped across the threshold. Tommy hadn’t gone more than a couple of steps before his foot slipped on something. Megan steadied him from behind. Tommy looked down to see what he had slipped on. A set of bloody footprints led outside the house. Tommy and Megan followed them down the hall.  
It was there that Tommy’s fears were realized and Megan cursed herself for doubting him. They found Rick’s body on the floor. There was a massive gash in his face and blood everywhere. Megan turned and ran outside. Tommy could hear her vomiting. The sound made his stomach turn, but he pushed on, over Rick’s body and further into the house.   
Nothing seemed out of place. Aside from Rick’s face, there was no other evidence anyone had been here. In the kitchen, Tommy found a phone hanging on the wall. He picked it up and dialed 911.  
“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asked.  
“My name is Tommy Jarvis. I’m at the home of Rick, a former deputy of yours. He’s been murdered,” Tommy said. There was a brief pause on the end.  
“Sir, please stay where you are. We are sending an officer to your location immediately.”  
“There’s no time for that,” Tommy said, growing impatient.  
“Sir, please stay where you are. An officer will be there shortly.”  
“I’m going to the camp. I have a bad feeling about this.”  
“Sir,.”  
“Oh, and you should probably send more than one.”  
With that, Tommy hung up the phone and went back outside. Megan was standing with her arms crossed, hugging herself. Tommy could see she’d been crying.  
“You alright?” He asked as he walked over to her and put his arms around her.  
“He was an asshole. But, he was my dad’s friend. He didn’t deserve this.”  
“No, he didn’t.”  
“You were right. Jason is alive.”  
“I didn’t want to be.”  
“What are we going to do?”  
“I’m going to the camp. You should go back to the town and…”  
“Tommy, knock that shit off. For the last time, I’m going with you. Now, what are we going to do?”  
Tommy didn’t answer. He held Megan tight. He didn’t want to answer. He didn’t want her to know he was afraid.

18

  
Camp Crystal Lake was dead silent when Tommy and Megan arrived. The cabins where the children stayed were empty. There were clothes and bags strewn about. To Tommy’s relief, there was no blood. It seemed the kids may have gotten out okay.  
The counselors weren’t so lucky. Their bodies were littered throughout their cabin. Blood was everywhere. But, there was no sign of Jason.  
“Do you think he’s still here?” Megan asked.  
“This is his home. No matter how far they travel, kids always return home. He’s here.”  
“What are we going to do?”  
“Hope we find him before he finds us.”  
The hope didn’t hold out long. Seconds after Tommy finished his thought, there was a loud BANG as the front door of the counselor cabin was thrown open. Jason stood in the doorway, his hulking frame blocking the world behind him.  
“Fuck!” Tommy yelled. “Megan, run!”  
They both ran up the stairs. Jason slowly made his way into the cabin and followed them. Tommy and Megan flew down the hall and into the far bedroom where Josh and Sandy’s bodies lay mangled. Tommy slammed the door behind them.  
“Over here,” Megan said. There was a large wood dresser against the same wall as the door. Tommy ran over and helped her push it. Just as they got it in front of the door, Jason slammed against it from the outside.  
“That isn’t going to hold,” Tommy said. He looked around the room to see if there was anything else they could use. Megan ran to the window and opened it.  
“There’s a ledge!” she yelled and Jason banged against the door again. The dresser shuddered. The door frame began to splinter.  
“Shit,” Tommy said.  
“Tommy, come on,” Megan said from the other side of the window. Jason crashed against the door again. The top part of the door splintered away. Tommy could see Jason’s hockey mask. That damned mask that has been haunting his dreams for years. He could feel a rage boiling in him. Tommy stepped toward Jason.  
“Tommy!” Megan yelled again from the ledge outside the window. “Tommy, no! He’ll kill you!”  
This seemed to shake the red from Tommy’s eyes. He ran toward the window. Megan moved along the ledge to give him room. Just as Tommy made it outside, Jason broke through the barricade and lumbered to the window. He stuck his head out and grabbed for Tommy’s leg. Tommy lifted it just in time and Jason’s arm smacked against the side of the cabin. Tommy brought his foot down on Jason’s hand as hard as he could. Jason didn’t make a sound, but pulled his hand back in the window. Tommy swung his leg and concede with Jason’s head, causing him to pull it back through the window. As he connected, Tommy lost his balance and felt himself begin to fall forward. He started to pinwheel his arms. Megan grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him back against the cabin. They both stood there, waiting to see if Jason would try to reach out for them again.  
Seconds stretched into minutes with no sign of Jason. Tommy moved toward the window.  
“Be careful,” Megan whispered.  
Tommy looked through the window. He saw the remains of the door and the dresser. He also saw the two camp counselors. There was no sign of Jason. He motioned for Megan to follow. They both crept back in through the window. Quietly, they made their way out of the room and down the hall. There was still no sign of Jason. Tommy could feel his nerves start to fray. Slowly, they descended the stairs. Tommy could see the busted front door. Still no sign of Jason.  
“Where is he?” Megan whispered  
They continued outside. The sun was high. Birds were chirping away merrily. The forest was noisy with insect mating calls and leaves being swayed by trees. Carla’s folded body lay next to them.  
“Where the hell are you, Jason?” Tommy said through clenched teeth. He and Megan looked around. They stayed near each other and walked around slowly. Megan could see Tommy was getting frustrated. A fear began to fester in her gut that this frustration would make Tommy reckless. She was about to say so when something in the distance caught her eye.  
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing toward the pier that jutted out over the lake.  
“What’s what?”  
“That, over there.”  
Tommy looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a glint of light shine off something sitting on the pier. They walked toward the object. The sun shined off it, giving off a blinding light. As they neared the pier, Tommy recognized the object. It was a machete, glinting in the sun. There were spatters of blood all over the blade. Tommy walked over to it, mesmerized.  
“Tommy, be careful,” Megan said as he bent down near the blade. Tommy reached out to grab it. Seemingly out of nowhere, Jason appeared and grabbed Megan in a bear hug.   
“NO!” Tommy screamed. He picked up the blade and rushed, but stopped abruptly, realizing that if he were to try and stab Jason, there was no way the blade wouldn’t hit Megan.  
“Let me go!” she screamed. Megan struggled as hard as she could. Without thought, she big Jason’s rotting hand. It was vile, but it worked. Jason released her. Megan fell to the ground and vomited. Tommy saw his chance and charged Jason with the machete. He buried the blade deep in Jason’s abdomen. Blood gushed from the exit wound. Jason staggered back.  
Tommy rushed over to Megan.  
“Are you alright?” He asked.  
Megan spat, trying to remove the taste of Jason’s decomposed flesh from her mouth. “Yeah.”  
Tommy helped her up. Jason, regaining his balance, made for them. He collided with Tommy. They both fell at the edge of the pier. Their combined weight was too much for the old wood to handle. It splintered, cracked, and broke. Tommy and Jason tumbled into Crystal Lake together.  
Megan ran to the edge of the pier and fell to her knees. She looked everywhere, her eyes darting back and forth in a panic. There was no sign of either Tommy, nor Jason.  
“Tommy!” she yelled. “Tommy, where are you?”  
Bubbles emerged from the water. Megan could feel a little relief sweep over her. She reached down and offered her hand. The hand that grabbed her did not belong to Tommy. Jason emerged from the water and dragged Megan in with him. The both of them fell beneath the surface and the camp was silent once again.

19

  
Hours later, Tommy awoke, finding himself in a hospital bed.  
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” came a voice near the door. Sheriff Garcia closed the door behind her and walked to the side of Tommy’s bed.  
“Where’s Megan?” Tommy asked. The Sheriff lowered her gaze.  
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jarvis. We only found you washed up on shore, near the former deputy’s house. Your friend was nowhere to be seen.”  
Tommy laid his head back on his pillow.  
“And Jason?”  
“We found several bodies. No one in a hockey mask though.”  
Tommy started to get out of the bed.  
“Where do you think you’re going?” The Sheriff asked.  
“I have to go find her.”  
“No, son. What you need to do is stay here and rest.”  
Tommy tried to walk away, but Sheriff Garcia grabbed him by the wrist.  
“What the hell?” Tommy asked.  
A pair of handcuffs closed around Tommy’s wrist and the hospital bed. The sheriff forced Tommy back into the bed.  
“You’re going to stay here and rest while my men continue looking for your friend. Once you’re well enough to be released, you’ll be sent to the County lock-up, where you’ll wait to stand trial for murder.”  
“Murder? But I didn’t kill anyone. Sheriff, it was Jason Voorhees.”  
“Good-bye Mr. Jarvis.” Sheriff Garcia turned and walked out of the room. Tommy yelled after her.  
“Get back here! You have to believe me! It was Jason! Sheriff. It was JASON!”

The End  
June 25, 2017  
August 17, 2017


End file.
